Faulty Geometry
by kelly4
Summary: Triangles have three sides. Except this one. Only one important part of the triangle doesn't know that. And the other part doesn't realize it. Clark/Lois *includes season 8 spoilers*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - **This sorta came to me after reading the PS hint for Stiletto (so yes, beware of spoilers!). And the fact that I think some of the fun in Smallville's version would be that some people would be privy to the faulty geometry of this whole thing,

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**April 2009**

Lounging in Clark Kent's still-squeaky desk chair, Oliver Queen busied himself setting up his new Blackberry as he waited for the man himself amid the morning buzz of the Daily Planet. He'd become suspicious of Tess recently. Well, longer than recently actually, but it was more clear than ever that she was hiding something from him. She was acting strange, and Oliver was anxious to get Clark's opinion on whether that had carried over to the workplace.

If so, it was possible they had something to worry about. Tess proclaimed to admit she was wrong where her devotion to Lex had been concerned, but Oliver wasn't quite convinced she'd given up following through on the wishes of the dead billionaire.

He was programming Lois' number into his new device when he heard the woman herself call out cheerfully.

"Good morning, Oliver!"

A quirked eyebrow greeted her blinding smile, one that was completely uncharacteristic this early in the day.

"Well, you're in a good mood this morning. Mickey over at the Coffee Stop give you a triple shot latte on the house or something?"

"I don't need to be caffeinated to be a in a good mood, Ollie."

"It certainly helps," he quipped back, chuckling as a pencil was good-naturedly launched at him from the opposite desk.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, though Oliver could see something was distracting her. He couldn't recall ever seeing such a distant, almost dreamy look on her face.

"I need to talk to Clark about something."

"Who?"

Oliver's eyes widened in disbelief at that, and Lois quickly looked up at him, apparently catching what she'd said. But instead of a sarcastic eyeroll mocking her own little blunder, she merely giggled.

"Oh, right. Clark," she said, turning her attention to unpacking her bag. She lugged out a thick red file folder, placing it on her desk with what Oliver could only classify as a playful bite of her lip.

"Actually, you have perfect timing. I was gonna call you today. I need to talk to you myself," she said cryptically.

"About?" he asked, his eyes flicking back to the folder, having a feeling the color was a big clue as to file's subject.

Her eyes glanced quickly around the noisy bullpen, taking in the usual hub of activity.

"Not here," she said, getting up and gesturing for him to follow her. She led him to a small copy room and, once inside, she turned and locked the door.

"So, what do you need to talk to me about?"

"Well, not you, exactly. Green Arrow."

He narrowed his eyes at that. "Why?"

"I wanna talk about a friend of yours."

Not willing to give anything away, Oliver leaned back against the wall, arms crossed nonchalantly in front of him.

"And that would be?"

A knowing smirk formed on her lips. "The Red-Blue Blur, of course."

Oliver simply sent her a close-mouthed grin. "What makes you think he's a friend of mine?"

She shook her head with a laugh. "Come on Ollie."

"Seriously, Lois, it's not like there's some fraternity or something. Just because the guy's in the hero business doesn't mean I have anything to do with him."

Lois leaned back against an old desk.

"Right," she snared disbelievingly. "You can save the denials. I know you know him."

"You do, do you?"

"I do."

"How?"

She smiled, a bit too triumphantly for Oliver's liking. "Because he was your decoy. That night, in the alley."

"Oh, you mean the night you tried to out me as the Green Arrow?"

"Which, I was right about by the way."

"Granted," he mumbled.

"Which was also why you needed the decoy. To throw me off the scent."

"And what makes you think my friend from that night and the Red-Blue Blur are one in the same?" Oliver asked.

"Because he kissed me."

Unable to stop his reaction, Oliver's jaw dropped, noticing the almost dreamy look once again on Lois' face.

"What?!?"

"Last night," she said, apparently oblivious to his shock and now looking at him with a bright smile. The same smile he'd seen on her face when she'd breezed into the bullpen earlier. "After he'd gone, I'd realized I'd only been kissed like that once before," she said, then seemed to realize who she was talking to and gave him an apologetic look, which was waved off by Oliver, urging her to continue. "Then, I remembered how he'd sped off that night, and it all clicked."

He swallowed thickly, grinding his teeth in a moment of frustration directed squarely at one big dumb alien. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck roughly, attempting to regain his composure.

"How does one kiss a blur, exactly?" he asked, his voice a tad strained.

"Well obviously he wasn't blurring when he kissed me, Ollie," she said, her smile fading and replaced with an eyeroll.

"Obviously," he snarked back. "So…you saw him?"

A silly question, he knew, because if she _had_ seen him, she'd know exactly who he was. Unless Clark had costumed up and not let him in on it.

"Not exactly."

He shook his head. "I'm not getting this. The man superblurs around Metropolis, yet stopped long enough to kiss you, and you didn't see him. How is that possible?"

She shrugged. "Long story."

"I'm a billionaire, I can afford the time."

She hopped up on the desk she'd been leaning against, crossing her legs and planting her hands on either side of her.

"One of Mannheim's thugs kidnapped me yesterday. They figured out I was Stiletto," she began.

"Yeah, about that. Don't think you're getting off the hook that easy, Lois. I wanna hear all about you playing dress-up," he grinned.

"Anyway," she said, shooting him a look that showed she was not amused by his comment or having her story interrupted. "The jerk blindfolded me and had me tied up in some old, abandoned warehouse. He said the big guy wanted to talk to me. And then left me sitting there, for like hours while he kept watch."

"Then the Blur showed up," Ollie interjected.

"I heard the thug get knocked out and then he was in front of me. He asked me if I was okay and I said I was, and he started untying the ropes around my wrists."

"What was his voice like?" Oliver probed.

"He whispered," she responded. "Anyway, once my hands were free I went to take the blindfold off but he asked me if I would leave it on, at least until he dropped me off."

"And you _did_?" he asked, more than a little shocked.

"Hey, I can respect the guy's privacy. I'm not asking you to tell me who he is here, I just wanna contact him."

"I wouldn't worry," Ollie said dryly, knowing all too well that the alter ego behind the Red Blue Blur had developed a serious case of being in love with Lois Lane. "I'm sure he'll find you."

At that, she gave him a quizzical look.

Clearing his throat, he covered quickly. "You _do_ manage to find yourself in need of a hero quite often, Lois," he said, earning him a glare from the feisty brunette. "Now, let's get back to it. I still didn't hear anything about a kiss."

"So, he blurred me back here, and I didn't know what time it was but it was pretty quiet. He took us into one of the phone booths."

"A phone booth?"

"Yeah, he said he didn't want to take the chance that anyone was around and would see him dropping me off."

"So, you were with him, blindfolded, in a phone booth? Sounds kinky, Lane."

"Says the green leather wearing archer," she shot back. "Besides, we just…talked. At least at first," she said with secretive grin.

"About?"

She shrugged. "Nothing really. He wanted me to promise to be more careful."

"Not bad advice."

"Do you wanna hear this or not?"

"Sorry. Go on."

"It wasn't a long time, not really anyway. He said he had to go, but then…he just stayed. For a minute, he just stood there, and then…he kissed me."

The faraway look once again appeared in her hazel eyes, and Oliver sighed. Complicated wasn't the appropriate word to describe this mess.

"Did he say anything after?"

"Huh?" she asked, startled out of her memory. "Oh, um…no, he just sped off."

"Real gentlemanly move," he said dryly.

"Oliver, I'm sure he had things to do. People to save. You should know that drill better than anyone. And you, my friend, are hardly one to be commenting on anyone kissing and running."

He smirked. "Fair point. So, what now? Where do I come in?"

"Like I said, I just wanna contact him. I mean, I suppose I could put myself in mortal danger to draw him out but I thought I'd actually try a safer method first."

"Will wonders never cease?" he quipped with a grin.

"Cute. I'm serious. I just…I wanna know why."

_You're not the only one_, Oliver thought to himself.

"Lois, look…I'll see what I can do but…," he paused, taking a deep breath before broaching the subject he knew had to be brought up. "What about Clark?"

Lois' eyes widened slightly at the mention of his name. "What about him?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about the fact that you're in love with him?"

"Not anymore," she said, a bit too sharply before recovering a plastering a smile on her face. "Besides, he made it clear that he wasn't interested."

"When was that?"

"After I got back, I asked him to meet up with me for coffee if he wanted to talk about everything that had happened, you know, the wedding and all, but he blew me off."

"He did?" Oliver asked, unable to keep the incredulousness out of his voice. Clark had neglected to mention _that _to him.

"Yup, with some lame text message about being swamped with work."

"So…that's it?"

"As far as I'm concerned. That's pretty definitive don't you think?"

Oliver's jaw tightened, resisting the urge to go find Clark and douse him with Kryptonite.

"Besides," she continued, "Clearly someone _else_ appreciates me. He's …amazing. And he kissed _me_ Ollie. _Me_. Metropolis' biggest hero planted one on a girl who writes about him and lives in a tiny one bedroom downtown. Clark Kent can eat his heart out. Not that he'd even care," she said, a hint of sadness entering her voice.

"But Lois…"

"No, Oliver," she said, determination clear in her tone. "That ship has sailed. And I'm okay with it. Really."

"Because of the Blur."

"Look, I'm not some weak-willed female whose feelings jump from one man to the next, alright? It's just…," her voice trailed off, and he could see a hint of blush in her cheeks.

"What?" he urged softly.

"He makes me feel special," she said quietly.

If it was possible to feel one's heart break, Ollie felt his do just that as her words sank in. Of course, he being privy to the irony in the situation made it all the more frustratingly sad, because the very man she _really_ wanted to make her feel special was _actually_ the one accomplishing it.

He just wouldn't let her know it.

Pushing away from the wall, he walked over to where Lois was still sitting on the desk, leaned down, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"You deserve that, Lois," he said sincerely.

She gave him a grateful smile. "So, you'll contact him for me?"

"I'll see what I can do. But I can't make any promises, okay?"

"Got it. Thanks Ollie."

He nodded in response, before turning and heading toward the door, unlocking it and shutting it behind him. He leaned against the wall outside, his mind racing with all he'd just heard. Out of all of the various thoughts running through his head, though, one stood out from all the others.

He was going to _kill_ Clark.


	2. Chapter 2

His mind whirling with Lois' revelations, Oliver walked quickly back into the bustling bullpen. Almost immediately, he spotted a newly arrived Clark, who was placing a large cup of coffee on Lois' desk, the slightest of smiles on his face as he glanced down toward her empty chair.

He'd seen that look a lot in the weeks since Lois had returned from Star City. Of course, it had always been when Lois was in the vicinity but wasn't looking, or directed at an inanimate object that belonged to her, which was frustrating in and of itself to Oliver. Knowing how both of them felt and watching as they insisted on not doing anything about it was beyond annoying. The idea of ignorance never seemed so blissful, especially in light of the conversation he'd just had with one Ms. Lane.

Clearing his throat, Oliver moved toward the two joined desks, with Clark still lingering near Lois'.

"We need to talk," Oliver said, not bothering to disguise his annoyance.

Looking startled for a moment, not having expected Oliver to be in front of him, Clark looked up. "Oh, hey Oliver. Have you seen Lois?", he asked, seemingly oblivious to the archer's attitude towards him.

A tight smile crossed Oliver's lips. "Yes, as a matter of fact I have."

Clark glanced around the bullpen. "Where is…"

He cut himself off as he caught sight of the woman herself breezing into the bullpen. She headed straight for her desk, not bothering to spare either man so much as a glance.

It was clear to Oliver she was back to business, mere minutes after confiding in him. These days that meant throwing herself into her work, which served the dual purpose of perfecting her craft and maintaining some distance from Clark.

The fact that he'd been pretty much dismissed without a word mere seconds after she'd entered the newsroom, however, was _not_ so clear to the farmboy-turned-reporter who was standing eagerly by her desk.

"Hey Lois."

"Hey Clark," she mumbled, her eyes fixed on her screen as she began typing.

"I brought you coffee."

"Huh? Oh," Lois said, briefly looking up at him before turning her attention back to her work. "Thanks."

"Clark…," Oliver called, attempting to get his attention.

"So, are you okay? I heard what happened last night," Clark said, continuing on as if Oliver hadn't spoken at all.

"I'm fine," Lois answered distractedly, tearing her eyes away from the monitor to glance at her calendar, before turning her attention back to the screen.

"Are you sure? Chloe told me that Mannheim's thugs grabbed you. Those men are serious, Lois, you could've been killed."

"Well obviously that didn't happen."

"So, what _did_ happen?"

Lois shrugged, her focus now on a stack of notes that were piled in front of her. "Metropolis' resident hero happened," she responded, her attempt at nonchalance in front of the two men thwarted by the smile beginning to form on her lips.

"The Blur saved you?" Clark asked, feigning innocence which caused Oliver to roll his eyes in response.

"That he did," Lois said, her smile becoming just a bit wider.

Clark looked at her expectantly, clearly wanting her to continue, however Lois seemed content not to share any more of the previous night's adventures with him.

He took a step closer to where she sat, his fingers beginning to tap on the desk, an action Oliver took as a sign of beginning frustration at Lois' closed-off attitude toward him this morning.

"And then what happened?" he pushed.

Oliver's eyes widened in surprise at that. If he hadn't seen it himself, he wasn't sure he would have believed it.

Clark Kent - unassuming, polite, and gentlemanly Clark Kent - was actually standing there, in the midst of the noisy and not-so-private newsroom, fishing for a reaction to his and Lois' encounter.

Had he not been so ticked off at him and the current situation, Oliver might have been impressed at the attempt, even if it wasn't executed with the smoothness the young billionaire himself would have conveyed had he been in a similar situation.

Grabbing her stack of notes, Lois stood up and finally met Clark's inquiring gaze. Tilting her head slightly, she bit the side of her lip, her cheeks beginning to take on the barest tinge of pink.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about, Smallville. Don't worry, I was in _very_ good hands," she finished evasively, flashing him a quick enigmatic smile complete with sparkling eyes before brushing past both of them and heading for the elevator.

Oliver watched, his gaze narrowing as he waited for either "brooding Clark" or "overprotective Clark" to put in an appearance at Lois' cryptic comment and subsequent brush-off of the danger she'd been in the night before.

That had been a pattern that had developed, something Oliver had noticed even before things had heated up between them at Chloe's wedding. Clark's concern for Lois' safety had become more than just a _friendly_ concern, though if called on it, he'd deny it, stammering out the typical _she's a friend_ excuse that fewer of their circle was buying anymore. Any rescue of her was normally followed by mumbled, anxious thoughts of what might have happened had he not reached her in time, and why couldn't she just be more careful because didn't she know that there were so many people who needed her?

So, he was more than a little surprised to see Clark grin as he turned, his eyes following her retreating form.

Inhaling sharply, Oliver stepped toward the larger man, a spark of anger flashing across his handsome features. Finally seeming to pick up on it, Clark's smile morphed into an expression of bewilderment.

"What?"

"Not here," Oliver said through clenched teeth. Eyebrows knitted in confusion, Clark simply nodded and began walking toward the archive room on the other side of the bullpen. He walked in, and Oliver followed, slamming the door behind him. Startled, Clark turned toward him.

"What's up?"

Oliver crossed his arms, leaning back against the door. He studied Clark for a moment, before allowing a small smirk to grace his lips.

"Have a good night last night?"

Clark's features relaxed at that, not picking up on the underlying note of accusation in Oliver's tone. He smiled, a smile, Oliver noted, not unlike one that had graced Lois' features earlier.

"You could say that."

"Save a lot of people?"

"Yeah, there was a fire over on 6th and Main, and I stopped a robbery at the convenience store over on Rockwell."

"And saved Lois, obviously."

Clark nodded, his smile growing a bit wider. Oliver shook his head slightly, pushing himself away from the door.

"You know, we've talked about this thing with Lois, and how you feel like you can't be with her because of your secret and the whole dual identity thing. That you think you can't be the Red Blue Blur and have a life of your own to go along with it. And, I don't agree with that, as I've said many times in the past few weeks, but I get why you feel that way, and that's your right, even if I do think you're making the wrong decision."

"Okay," Clark said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to follow Oliver's train of thought.

"The plan was, as you put it to me, to remain firmly on the friendship side of things with Lois, even though that's not _really_ what you want, but what you think _has_ to be. Correct?"

"Right."

"So, care to explain to me _how_, exactly, you making out with her as the alter ego you're so convinced you have to keep from her fits _that_ particular plan?"


	3. Chapter 3

"_The plan was, as you put it to me, to remain firmly on the friendship side of things with Lois, even though that's not really what you want, but what you think has to be. Correct?"_

"Right."

"So, care to explain to me how, exactly, you making out with her as the alter ego you're so convinced you have to keep from her fits that particular plan?"

The speed with which Clark paled in response would have amused Oliver had the situation been different.

"She told you?" he asked weakly.

"She did. Wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking?"

"It's not what you think, Oliver. I mean, I didn't I plan it or anything," he responded, the telltale signs of a blush beginning to creep up his neck.

"Oh, so it was, what, an accident? You tripped attempting to superspeed out of the phone booth and your lips just happened to land on hers?" Oliver snarked.

"No," Clark shot back, a hint of petulance in his voice. "It just…happened."

"How, exactly?"

Clark narrowed his eyes. "What'd Lois tell you?"

Oliver chuckled darkly. "No way, man. Start talking."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clark exhaled loudly before beginning his version. "Chloe called me last night. She was worried because she couldn't get a hold of Lois, and they'd planned to meet for a drink at the Ace of Clubs. When Lois didn't show up, Chloe tried her cell but it went straight to voicemail."

"And that's when Chloe got you involved."

"Yeah. I looked for her all over the city, all the places she usually goes, but there was no sign of her. I tried her cell myself, I thought maybe I could pick up the ring with my hearing."

"Good thinking," Oliver acknowledged grudgingly. "And were you able to?"

Clark nodded. "I found the phone, but no Lois."

"Where?"

"An alley near Center Street."

Oliver nodded slowly. "One of Bruno Mannheim's favorite storage places, from what I understand."

"Right. Her whole Stiletto thing put her on his radar, unfortunately. So I scanned the buildings around there, and I finally saw her, tied up and blindfolded with one of Mannheim's men guarding her."

"So you sped in and got her out. Why bring her here?"

"No reason, other than it was the first place I thought of. It was past 2 AM, and no one around here, except for Lois, works that late. I knew it'd be deserted, though I did a quick scan before we got in here just in case."

"And you took her to the phone booth."

"Well, like I said, it was deserted, but I wasn't gonna tempt fate. I didn't want to just run off either."

"Why? That's what you usually do."

"Because this whole Stiletto thing, it was about getting an interview with me. I thought, if I talked to her, she'd stop putting herself in mortal danger to accomplish that. Besides, she was blindfolded and she'd promised to keep it on so I knew she wouldn't see me."

"Okay, so far, I get it. I'll even concede that talking to her to try and get her to be more careful was a good move. So, what on earth possessed you to kiss her?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, before catching Oliver's disbelieving look. "I don't. Like I said, I didn't plan it. I asked her to promise me she'd be more careful, that she wouldn't go around playing superhero anymore, and she did, even if it was reluctantly," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the memory. "And I was gonna leave, but…I just couldn't."

"You _couldn't_?" Oliver snapped, exasperated. "Please, you could have, you just didn't want to. At least be honest with yourself, and me, if you're not gonna be honest with _her_."

"Fine, I didn't want to," Clark shot back.

"Good, that's a start," Oliver snarked. "Now let's examine why you chose the phone booth in the first place. I'm sure there were more _spacious_ options available. Or why you chose now to have a conversation with her."

"I told you, I wanted to talk to her about being more careful."

"Right, I got that. And that could have been accomplished with a brief one or two minute exchange. But it was more than that. A _lot_ more," Oliver emphasized.

"You don't understand," Clark said, his voice taking on its own edge of frustration.

"Then make me understand, Clark. Make me understand why you, who put the brakes on pursuing anything with Lois, would not only deliberately put yourself in an intimate situation with her, but then _kiss_ her?

"I miss her, alright?"

The force with which Clark had blurted that out stunned Oliver for a moment. He watched as Clark ran a hand roughly through his hair, sighing loudly.

"I know it sounds ridiculous. She sits right across from me everyday, but, it's…it's different. She still talks to me but, it's just…it's not the same as it was before."

Shaking his head slightly, Oliver responded, "You had to know that would happen. Blowing her off via text message pretty much sealed that deal."

Clark's head shot up, eyes wide. "She told you that too?"

"Yeah, she did. Interesting that _you_ failed to mention it during one of the several Lois conversations we've had recently."

"I'm not exactly proud of it. It wasn't my finest moment," he muttered.

"You don't say?" Oliver retorted sarcastically. "I seem to be asking this question quite a bit today, but what the hell were you thinking?"

Ignoring the barb, Clark moved toward the window, leaning against the pane before continuing. "I couldn't face her," he said quietly. "I wanted to, there wasn't anything I wanted more than to go over and talk to her. But what I want...," his voice trailed off and for a moment, he stood silently, gazing out on the sun-drenched Metropolis skyline. Then, clearing his throat, he turned back to Oliver, a note of sad determination clear in his voice. "What I want isn't what's most important. I knew, in the end, I would've just ended up breaking her heart."

"And you don't think what you did that night was exactly that?"

"Better now than later. At least now, we can still be friends, and eventually, things will get back to the way they were. I'll still have her in my life," he said quietly.

"While you both suffer in silence. Which, by the way? Really annoying for the rest of us."

"It's for the best," Clark said, his voice a mixture of determination and sadness.

"Yeah, you keep saying that. But the thing is, you _knew_ how Lois would be after you didn't show up that night. You _had_ to, you know her better than just about anyone. So I don't know why you're surprised at how she's been acting around you."

"I'm not surprised. Doesn't mean I have to like it," Clark muttered grimly.

"You know what, Clark? You made your choice, and for whatever reason, you seem to be intent on sticking with it, even though you're miserable and frankly, Lois is no picnic either. Fine. That's your prerogative. But that means no liplocks with Lois as your alter ego. Because that's just messing with her, and she doesn't deserve that."

"You think that was my intention?"

"Honestly? No, I don't. But if you miss her like you say you do, then it's gotta be awfully tempting to use your superhero side to get close to her. Especially since that's probably the only way she'd allow it at the moment, since she doesn't _know_ it's you. Of course, you could eliminate that issue by just telling her the truth."

"Don't start," Clark warned.

"Fine," Oliver responded, his annoyance clear.

The two men stood in silence for a moment, before Clark sent him a quizzical look.

"I'm kinda surprised Lois told you."

"Why?"

"Well, you're her ex."

"I'm also the Green Arrow," Oliver stated.

Clark's eyebrows knitted in confusion for a moment, before he nodded slightly in realization.

"She thinks you know the Blur."

"Actually," Oliver responded, "she knows I do. In large part thanks to the kiss you planted on her."

"Huh?"

"Seems that kiss reminded Lois of another kiss. In an alley, a few years back. I'm sure you remember," Oliver said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Clark couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. "I remember."

"Yeah, well so does Lois. And she also remembered how the Green Arrow, or the guy that was acting as my decoy, supersped off. She added it all up, and got that Metropolis' primary-colored blur is a buddy of mine. She wants me to contact him, or, you as the case may be, and set up a meeting."

"What'd you tell her?"

"I told her I'd try, and frankly, I'm not gonna give you much choice here, Clark. You need to talk to her. She's not interested in exposing you, but she is confused. She wants to know why you kissed her, and you owe her an explanation, even if you won't tell her the whole truth. You don't think you can have a relationship with her as Clark Kent, fine, though I'll go on record once again as saying I think you're being an idiot. But you can't use your hero side to bridge the gap that's formed between the two of you because of your decision. It's not fair to her."

Rubbing his eyes, Clark took a deep breath. "I know. I made the choice, I have to live with it," he said wearily.

"Or, you could change your mind."

"Oliver…"

"I'm just sayin'. You're losing out on an amazing woman, Clark, because of all this fear you carry around."

"With good reason."

Oliver sighed. "I know you've had some bad experiences with people knowing your secret. But you automatically assuming that things will end up the same way with Lois…."

"Look, Oliver, I already know your feelings on the subject," Clark snapped, cutting him off.

"Well, I figure if I keep voicing them, maybe they'll sink in to that thick head of yours."

"I'm doing what I have to do."

"Right. To protect Lois, not to mention yourself. But one day, Clark, you're gonna look back at this decision and regret it. Mark my words. I only hope that when you do, it's not too late for you to do something about it."

"Are you done?" Clark asked in a low voice, his jaw set in determination as Oliver's words practically slapped him in the face.

"I think so."

"Good. Tell Lois to be in the phone booth on the right outside the bullpen at 10 'o clock tonight."

"You'll call on the payphone?"

"Well I can't call her on her cell," Clark snapped, his frustration at the whole situation beginning to get the best of him.

"What're you gonna say to her?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, he closed his eyes.

"I have no idea."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for all the feedback everyone! Sorry for the delay in updating, but I hope you enjoy!**

*****

*****

Clark sunk into the dark shadows the globe of the Daily Planet provided as gazed out over the sparkling Metropolis skyline. The lights of the city managed to make the roof of the Planet seem like daytime to him, even under the cover of night.

Not that she would be up here with him. No, Lois should be just about to enter the phone booth down below. He'd told her to be in the right phone booth, and he'd intended to blur into the left one once she was settled, but he'd decided against it.

After his conversation with Oliver, one where he knew Oliver was absolutely right, he felt like he needed some distance between him and Lois to have this conversation.

Since, last night, his self-control around her had been severely lacking. He was concerned not even the wall of the phone booth separating them would keep him from restraining himself. Especially after that _kiss_.

Which was why he found himself pressed into the shadows of the Daily Planet's rooftop, without a clue as to what he was going to say to her.

What _could_ he say? It was something he'd wanted to do for a long time? True enough, but given the fact that, as far as she was concerned, most of their contact had been fleeting as he'd blurred in to save her, he wasn't so sure she'd buy it. Which would lead to questions he wasn't quite ready to answer.

An apology? Well, that would be partly a lie since he wasn't _really_ sorry he'd kissed her, though he was truly sorry if he'd confused her or upset her.

Sighing, he pressed the menu button on the disposable cell Oliver had lent him, just to be on the safe side.

9:59 P.M.

He'd told her 10:00, and thankfully the city had been relatively quiet tonight so he was able to stick to that. And if he knew Lois (and he did), she'd be waiting for the phone to ring at precisely 10:00 on the nose.

His stomach swirled a bit, both with anxiety and anticipation. Sliding open the phone, he pressed the number he had dialed into its memory earlier, and pressed send. He couldn't help the small grin that crossed his lips when he heard her pick up after two short rings.

"Hello?"

"Lois?" he asked, though he knew it was her. He made a conscious attempt to keep his voice lower than normal.

"Yeah, hi," she responded, then paused a moment before continuing. "Thanks for getting in touch with me, I know you have a lot more important things to worry about than keeping a date with some cub reporter."

He smiled into the phone, and was about to respond that she was not just _some_ reporter, when heard her chuckle nervously.

"Not that this is a date," she stammered out quickly. "I would never assume that this was a date. I meant, keeping an appointment. Yeah, keeping an _appointment_ to call me."

"It's no problem, Lois," he said reassuringly, "Things are actually pretty calm tonight."

"Well, now that you've said that, I'm sure you'll have to blur off in a matter of minutes," she teased, a sure sign that she was relaxing a bit. He could almost picture her, leaning against the wall of the phone booth, in that raspberry shirt she'd worn today that was all too distracting with its body-hugging fit, her lips tilted into that sexy grin, the one that made his heart race faster, he was sure, than even his buddy Bart could run.

He shook his head slightly, as if to halt the thoughts that were wandering into place he had firmly declared off-limits.

"So," she continued, "why'd you kiss me last night?"

A quick burst of breath escaped his lips. "Right to the point, huh?"

"Why waste time? Especially with a guy who might have to speed off at any given moment."

"Fair enough," he responded.

A silence followed, one that stretched between them for a few moments.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he finally said, his voice quiet. And it wasn't a lie. He'd wanted to, that had been true for months, and he wasn't _sorry_ he'd done it, but in his heart, he knew it was something that shouldn't have happened. As giving as he was, he'd had a selfish moment, one in which he'd wanted nothing more in the world than to feel her lips against his.

"Oh," he heard her say, the tone of disappointment in her voice not escaping him.

"Lois, it's …it's complicated," he sighed.

"Right. Look, it's no big deal," she responded, and he recognized her attempted brush-off. "So, if you called me tonight to give me the 'let her down easy' pitch, you can save your breath. It's not necessary, really. "

"That's not why I'm here, I just…I thought you deserved an explanation. I'm not really in the habit of kissing the women I save," he said, hoping to lighten the tension a bit. "The truth is, I don't usually stick around long enough to even know anyone's names, much less anything else. But…you're different."

"How?" she asked softly.

"My life," he began, sliding down the wall he'd been leaning against to sit on the hard cement. "It's...well, it's kinda crazy most of the time. Hiding who I really am, protecting my secret. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I can do what I can do, that I can help out and protect Metropolis, but it doesn't mean that there aren't times when I feel …," his voice trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Alone?"

He smiled slightly at that, her knack for reading people loud and clear very much intact, even over a phone.

"Yeah."

"Do you have anyone you can talk to?"

"I do but…it always seems to come back to my job. What I do."

"And sometimes you need a break from that."

"Something like that. Last night…with you, I didn't feel so alone. And I guess I got caught up in the moment, and for that Lois, I _am_ sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

"In case you didn't notice, I wasn't exactly fighting you off."

"I noticed," he said softly, his mind flashing back how he'd held her in his arms, the softness of her lips pressed against his. "Still, it wasn't right."

"Look, for the record, if you're feeling guilty or something, forget it. You didn't do anything wrong. Unless there's some superhero code or something that says you shouldn't make out with the women you save."

Clark chuckled despite himself. "There probably is."

"Even so, _I'm_ not upset about it, okay?"

"You're not?"

"No. Actually…it was just what I needed. I've been…well, let's just say the whole guy thing isn't working out so much for me lately. It's nice to know _someone's_ interested."

His heart twisted at that, hearing the hint of sadness in her voice, knowing full well he was the cause.

"Not that I'm assuming you're _interested_," she said quickly, "I mean, I'm a huge conclusion jumper, don't get me wrong, but I didn't leap to that one, I just meant…"

"Lois," he chimed in, cutting off her nervous rambling. "I know what you meant."

He heard a quick burst of breath before she responded, "Okay, good."

"Though I find it hard to believe _you_ would be having guy trouble."

"Yes, I suppose with you blurring around practically nonstop you'd miss the line of available men just lined up outside my door," she snarked, bringing a tender smile to his lips.

A response, a question, tickled in his brain. He _shouldn't_ do it. What he should do is make up some emergency and tell her he had to go. He absolutely should _not_ utter the words that were now forming in the back of his throat, dangerously close to passing through his lips.

Wrong. It would be wrong. So wrong in about a thousand different ways.

And yet, the devil on his shoulder whispered, she was so closed off to him now. What harm would it do to get a little insight?

"So," he ventured, closing his eyes briefly, the devil having won. "This guy trouble, was it anyone in particular?"

His question was met with silence, and for a minute, he thought he'd scared her off.

Until she finally answered.

"Yeah, this friend of mine I've known for years."

He swallowed hard, gripping the phone a bit tighter in his hands.

"What happened?"

When he once again heard a prolonged bout of quiet, he quickly added, "You know what? It's none of my business."

"No, it's okay…it's not a big deal, it just didn't work out. Never actually happened to begin with really."

_Let it go…just let it go._

But he couldn't. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he'd hurt her. And he hadn't meant to, yet, they hadn't talked about it, though he knew that had been exactly what she'd wanted to do when she'd asked him for coffee.

He just hadn't been able to cross the street to meet her.

"Why?" he asked, hearing the strain in his own voice and hoping she wouldn't pick up on it.

"Well, I'll spare you the gory details, but long story short? Right initials, wrong girl."

The words themselves, combined with her feeble attempt to make light of it as she'd said them, made him feel like someone had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. Nausea swirled in his stomach, a sensation he normally only felt around kryptonite, as the implication of what she'd said slammed into him.

She thought he wasn't over Lana. That, in her mind, was the reason he hadn't shown up that night to talk about what was happening between them. And even though it didn't _really_ matter, let's face it, the end result was still the same in that he'd pulled back from the chance at a relationship with her, he _hated_ that she thought that was the reason, that she felt the feelings he had for her were nonexistent, while he carried a brightly burning torch for his ex.

It took all his self-control not to superspeed down to her and tell her just how _wrong_ she was.

"Are you sure that's the reason?" he managed to sputter out weakly.

A slightly bitter chuckle came through the phone. "Oh yeah. Be happy your superpowered destiny kept you from witnessing the Clark and Lana rollercoaster."

He managed a half-hearted laugh, the irony not escaping him that he wished she was right, and he hadn't had a front row seat to it, at least in the latter part of their relationship.

"Whatever," she said, continuing, "It's for the best. We probably would have been a disaster together anyway."

"Is that what you really think?" he asked quietly.

A stillness fell between them as she seemed to be weighing his question. His breath caught in his chest, waiting for her answer.

"No," she said, her voice so faint he almost had to use his superhearing to pick it up, "I think we would have been amazing."

Closing his eyes, his head fell back against the wall. Wetness formed behind his closed lids as he ran a hand roughly through his hair, his heart aching with the loss of something he hadn't experienced, yet he knew instinctively that what she'd said was absolutely true.

They would have been _amazing_.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be, it's not your fault," she responded, naïve to the fact that he was apologizing for something else entirely. For being too scared, for himself and for her, for having a secret he was convinced would only hurt her in the long run, for keeping her at arm's length when all he really wanted to do was hold her close and never let her go. For wishing things could be different, that she would always be safe and protected even knowing his secret, but feeling deep down that the only choice was the one he'd made, even if he truly wanted the exact opposite.

"So," she said, breaking the silence that had once again settled over the line, "Are we okay?"

He blinked quickly, her voice shaking him out of his melancholy thoughts. "Yeah, of course we are."

"Good. I'm really glad we talked."

"Me too."

"And…look I know you have a lot on your mind, with what you do and all, and I just want you to know, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me. Not as a reporter, as a friend. You don't have to feel alone."

His lips curved into a smile at that. "I just might take you up on that."

"I hope you do."

There was a click, then the buzz of a dial tone as she hung up. Closing his phone, he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing quietly.

The knowledge he'd gained tonight did nothing to ease the pain in his heart, knowing how she'd misconstrued the events of the past few months, but also aware that correcting her would open up a door he wasn't ready or willing to walk through, for both of their sakes.

As he glanced at the phone in his hand, his mood lightened a touch. She'd extended an invitation to him tonight, as the Blur, to call her when he needed to talk.

What was the harm in that? He'd be careful, he wouldn't do anything to lead her on, to confuse her.

_But if you miss her like you say you do, then it's gotta be awfully tempting to use your superhero side to get close to her. Especially since that's probably the only way she'd allow it at the moment._

A frustrated growl escaped Clark's throat as Oliver's words from earlier rang through his head.

"It's not the same thing," he muttered to himself, "No kissing. Just talking."

He _needed_ that. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Ollie before that he'd missed Lois. He missed everything about her, what with the distance she'd placed between them.

Would it really be so wrong to have a few harmless conversations with her in the guise of his alter ego?

"Besides, _she's_ the one who offered," he said aloud, the justification continuing. "And who is Oliver Queen to say who I can or can't talk to?" he finished, his voice rising slightly.

Standing up, he tucked the phone into his jacket, nodding his head resolutely, before walking towards the door leading to the interior of the Planet.

"But no kissing," he said quietly, as if reminding himself. "Absolutely no kissing."


	5. Chapter 5

"Nice job with that fire on Lincoln last night."

"Thanks," Clark said quietly, sinking further back into the shadows cast by the brightly lit and constantly spinning Daily Planet globe. She was across the roof from him, the light hitting her and keeping him shrouded in darkness. Not that he hadn't taken precautions. The dark sunglasses and overly large hooded sweatshirt he was wearing were safeguards, just in case.

But he planned to remain firmly rooted in the shadows.

And he was still taking a chance. He knew that. But at some point in the past few weeks, their almost daily phone calls had morphed into one-on-one meetings.

It happened by accident. Clark had found himself catching his breath on the Daily Planet roof after a particularly difficult evening involving a brakeless tanker truck that had careened out of control on top of tracking down a serial mugger that had been wreaking havoc on the citizens of Metropolis for the better part of two weeks. He'd been leaning against the wall, the shadows hiding his trademark red and blue outfit, when he'd heard the rooftop door open.

Holding his breath, he'd watched her walk out, her usual fast-paced stride a far more leisurely one as she headed toward the ledge and gazed out over the now-twinkling city. It wasn't often, especially after everything that had happened that he caught Lois in an unguarded moment. Maybe it made him appreciate it all the more. Maybe it caused the heavy guard he kept up, particularly in the guise of his alter ego, to come down just a bit. And that's when he found himself, before he could fully contemplate the consequences of his actions, calling out to her, alerting her to his presence.

He'd made sure, as he always did even over the phone, that his voice was deeper than usual, a bit gruffer than his normal speaking voice. It seemed to work, the distance to which he kept from her while talking probably not hurting too much either.

Since that evening, their chats on the roof had become almost a nightly ritual. Not every night, as sometimes his duties kept him busy into the early hours of the morning.

Not that it was always easy to pull off. See, they never scheduled anything. Lois just often wandered up to the roof to clear her head about the same time each night. 8:30. He'd known that, even that first night he'd seen her out there, but having been busy making saves, he hadn't quite realized the time which is why she'd caught him by surprise.

The tricky part was the nights he was working across from her, funnily enough, and not the nights he was blurring around Metropolis. No, the nights he was at the Planet, he'd wait anxiously, watching the clock on his computer monitor while surreptitiously glancing at her, waiting for her to shoot up out of her seat and tell him, nonchalantly of course, that she'd be right back, and watch her head toward the roof.

Then, he'd wait until she was in the elevator, doors closed, before blurring up to the roof, beating her there and finding his spot, the one that shielded him perfectly, yet allowed him an unobstructed view of her . And then he'd wait the few minutes it took her to arrive, allowing her a few moments before alerting her to his presence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I know there isn't much that can harm you, but…do you ever get scared?"

His eyes widened, her question surprising him even though, at this point, it really shouldn't. This was what she did, she asked the questions no one else thought or, probably more accurately, cared enough about what was really going on his head to ask.

He pondered it for a moment, wanting to be as truthful as possible even in the face of lying to her about other things.

"Yeah," he finally said, "I do. But not for my own safety. For everyone else's."

"What do you mean?"

It was a fear he didn't voice much, if at all. But somehow, saying it to her seemed _right_. In his heart, in his soul, he knew she'd understand. She'd listen.

"What if I'm not in time? What if I can't make the save?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully, letting his words sink in.

"You're pretty hard on yourself, huh?"

"I have to be."

"Because you're dealing with life and death situations," she stated simply in response.

"Right."

"But you can't save everyone," she said quietly. "Even with your powers, you're only one person."

He sighed softly at that. The thing was, he knew she was right, it was something others had tried to tell him, it was something he'd tried to tell himself.

"I don't suppose that knowledge stops the guilt you must feel, though, even if I don't think you don't deserve to feel that way."

Lips ticking up into a grin, his heart warming at her understanding of him despite being in the dark about his biggest secret.

"No, it doesn't."

"Look, I get that but…I just hope you don't let it stop you. What you do for this city is amazing. Not just because of the saves you make, but because you've given the people of Metropolis hope. That's more powerful than any one save, trust me."

"I know that, I do, but…"

"In that moment, it's hard to think that way."

Clark chuckled softly. "You sure you're not an undercover advice columnist or something?"

"Please, I have a hard enough time managing my own life, let alone doling out advice to anyone else."

"Well, you seem to have a pretty good handle on me."

"Years of experience."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that my father, he's a General in the army and his mantra was always the very predictable, knowing him anyway, failure is not an option," she said, lowering her voice in an imitation of her father's as she delivered the words she'd heard so often growing up. "The thing is, that's not realistic, and I beat myself up over not being able to live up to that for him, but eventually I learned that sometimes things are out of your control, and you can't do what you set out to do for whatever reason. And when that happens, you just have to pick yourself up and move on to the next thing. I mean, granted, the situations you're dealing with are a lot more dangerous than mine were…"

"That doesn't mean you didn't feel the same way," he interjected, his mind wandering back to the night he'd found her in the loft, the night her wayward sister had gone on the run to escape being arrested. The night she'd dealt with The General calling her a failure for not doing something she should never have had to do in the first place – be a mother to her little sister.

The night they'd first said out loud what they'd known deep down for months – they were friends.

And she'd done exactly what she'd said; she'd taken the hit from The General, picked herself up, and moved onto the next thing. It was something he'd always admired about her, the way her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to wallow in self-pity.

Though, he knew better than anyone that despite outward appearances, underneath it all, her heart was just as breakable as anyone else's. Maybe even moreso, because she tried so hard to protect it.

_But she wanted to let you in…_

Swallowing hard, he shook that thought out of his head, feeling the familiar regret begin to seep into his chest.

_Pick yourself up and move on to the next thing…_

Over the past few weeks, he'd had to remind himself on more than one occasion that he was doing the right thing by not pursuing a relationship with Lois. That he'd be okay being her co-worker and friend by day, and superhero confidante by night. That that would be _enough_.

The thing was, the voice that insisted that this was the perfect solution – he still had her in his life and she was safe - was becoming weaker and weaker in his head as the days went on.

"Just…look, I know I'm no superhero and can't really know what it feels like but," she said, her voice shaking him out of his thoughts, "if and when that ever happens, and you wanna talk about it, you know where to find me."

"I just might take you up on that."

He saw her smile at that, knowing a similar expression graced his own lips as the echo of the words spoken in their first conversation floated in the air between them.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed, and she reached into her pocket, taking it out and eyeing the display.

"Damn," she muttered. "I'm sorry, I have to return this call. I've been trying to get a hold of these guys for days."

"No problem."

She peered into the darkness where he was hiding. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Count on it."

She nodded, then turned and headed back into the building. Using his x-ray vision, he watched, making sure she was on the elevator with the doors safely closed before he blurred through the doors himself, blurring down the staircase and out into the streets of Metropolis.

It was about ten minutes before he returned to his desk, white paper bag in hand. He stopped at the entrance, taking a moment as he often found himself doing these days, to simply watch her. Pencil gripped in her teeth, eyes scanning back and forth over the text on her monitor.

She hadn't mentioned her conversations with the Blur to him. He wasn't sure what to make of that. On the one hand, it hurt more than a bit that she wasn't sharing something she'd been so excited about finally happening with him, with _Clark_.

On the other hand, he knew she was probably simply erring on the side of discretion, knowing it was a sensitive matter to have pretty much a direct line to a superhero.

Or maybe, their talks, whether on the phone or on the roof of the Planet, were special to her. So special she wanted to keep them private. Only for her. And the Blur.

Unexpectedly, a twinge of jealousy flared in his stomach at the thought.

Weren't conversations with _him_ just as special as conversations with the Blur?

After all, the tenseness that had been present between them after he hadn't met her for coffee had eased somewhat. And _they_ had special conversations too. It's not like the Red Blue Blur could quote Lois' rules of journalism, making her face light up with pride and making his heart pound frantically at the mere sight.

He smirked a bit triumphantly at that, with Lois still in his sights, and completely missing the irony of his thoughts in the process.

"You okay, Smallville?"

He blinked quickly, her voice shaking him out of his reverie.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What's that?" she asked, gesturing toward the bag in his hand. With a smile, he headed over and placed it in front of her. Furrowed brows glanced up at him as she opened the crinkled bag.

"Is that a triple chocolate peanut butter muffin?"

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I didn't see you bring anything back from dinner, and it's just about time for your post-dinner pre-late night latte snack break."

Her creased brow melted into a look of surprise mixed with affection and Clark felt a rush of warmth throughout his entire body. He was sure, even without superhearing, she could pick up the thunderous pounding of his heart against his ribcage.

"Thanks, Clark," she said, reaching into the bag and pulling out the enormous muffin. Looking at it, and then looking at him, she asked, "You want half?"

He grinned. "_You_ wanna share?"

"Hey, I share!" she said indignantly. He quirked an eyebrow in response, and she rolled her eyes. "Sometimes," she mumbled. She snapped her head toward him, hearing him laugh in response. "You want some or not?"

"Sure."

Peeling off the wrapper, she broke the chocolaty muffin in half, placed it on one of the napkins from the bag, and held it out toward him. He reached out to take it, his fingers accidentally brushing hers. It was moments like this he loved his abilities, as his hearing picked up the hitch in her breathing at the soft contact. Their eyes met, holding for just a moment before Lois quickly looked away, pulling her hand back and busying herself picking out a large peanut butter chip from the muffin.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," she said, popping the extracted chip into her mouth. Picking up her phone, she dialed a number, leaning the phone against her ear as she began typing again.

"Yeah, hi, I need a room for this weekend. Starting on Friday night….. Oh come on, seriously? There's nothing going on in the city, how are you booked?....Yes, I know it's last minute but something came up…."

"Lois," he whispered, leaning across his desk to get her attention.

She waved him off as she continued to try and persuade the hotel manager she was speaking with that in fact, they _did_ have a room for her.

"Lois!"

Sighing frustratedly, she slammed down the phone. "What?"

"Why do you need a hotel room?" he asked, and prayed that the answer wouldn't make the half a muffin he was snacking on come up in reverse.

"Oh, the guys I hired to paint my new place just called before. They had a cancellation so they wanted to know if they could come this weekend. And I was gonna stay with Chloe but….well let's just say I caught the Jimmy and Chloe – Premarital Bliss act, I'm not sure I have the stomach for the Jimmy and Chloe – Reunited production."

He cringed sympathetically, which quickly turned to hurt as he realized the one place she'd left out.

She hadn't even suggested the farm.

Swallowing, a bit painfully, he offered, "You could stay with me."

Surprised eyes met his across the desk.

"At the farm?"

"That _is_ where I live," he teased lightly.

She looked down for a moment, a faint tinge covering her cheeks and she picked at the muffin in front of her.

"I'm sure you have a lot going on Clark…"

"Like that's ever stopped you," he said, and was rewarded with a patented Lois Lane glare. "Come on, why should you pay for a hotel room when you can have your old room back? Besides, it'll make Shelby's weekend."

She twisted her lips to the side, one of her 'contemplation' looks. "It _has_ been a while since I've seen Shelbs."

"He misses you."

A few more moments of silence before she nodded. "Okay. But it's just for the weekend. They said I should be able to get back in the apartment by Monday."

"You can stay as long as you need to."

The last bite of muffin disappeared into her mouth before she gave him a close-mouthed grin. She grabbed a few papers off her desk before jumping out of her seat and heading to the copy room. As she got to the entrance of the basement, however, she stopped, turning back towards Clark.

With the sweetest smile he was sure he'd ever seen, she said softly, "Thanks, Smallville."

"Anytime, Lois."

A satisfied smile on his face, he watched her walk off before turning his attention back to his computer.

"Who's special now?"


	6. Chapter 6

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

And in truth, he still felt like it had a lot of merit. Inviting Lois to stay at the farm solved her problem, and allowed him a bit more of a foothold back in her life. Back to the way things were before.

Of course, it hadn't _completely_ occurred to him that he'd be in close proximity to her for three days. Sure, there was definitely an upside to that.

However, three days of Lois goodness would certainly challenge his resolve to keep things on a 'just friends' basis with her.

But he could do this. He had to do this. It was important to him to get things back to as normal as possible with her, he needed that normalcy in his life more than she possibly realized.

So. Guitar Hero. An action flick or two. Friend stuff.

Just like old times.

And if his arm brushed hers accidentally while they were watching a movie on the couch, well, she didn't have to know about the rush it sent through him. Or how non-accidental it had probably been on his part.

He'd already come up with a prepared laundry list of excuses to get out and patrol while she was staying with him. A part for the tractor he had to pick up in town. Helping out a neighbor with some farm work. Running to the store because he was out of milk, orange juice, or popcorn (which they'd need for the action movies, of course).

Of course, the spur of the moment emergencies would be a bit dicey. And he _was_ slightly nervous about that. Okay, more than slightly. But he knew that Lois wouldn't come without her laptop or the article she'd been working on, so he was hopeful that that would provide some distraction for her, enough to let him slip out if needed in a pinch.

"You stare any harder and the kitchen counter may burst into flames."

Clark turned his head toward the familiar, snarky voice.

"Oliver. What are you doing here?"

"I was at the Talon checking in with Chloe about what else she'd need for her new gig. Imagine my surprise when she mentioned your houseguest for the weekend."

"Yeah, well, Lois needed a place to stay," Clark responded, not quite meeting Oliver's knowing gaze as he rifled through the day's mail on the counter.

"Well I can't blame her for not wanting to go back to bunking with the happily marrieds, but do you think this is such a good idea?"

"It's not like Lois hasn't stayed here before," Clark said with a note of defensiveness.

"True, but things are a lot different now. The biggest difference being your having to run off and save the world on cue. How are you gonna handle that with a very inquisitive Lois Lane here all weekend?"

"I've got it covered," Clark mumbled, tossing aside an ad for a new miracle fertilizer.

"Hmm," Oliver responded, watching Clark closely. "It won't be easy. You know, I'm gonna be out of town this weekend, Lois can stay at my place…"

"No!" Clark practically shouted, turning toward Oliver. Noticing the smug grin on the other man's face, Clark flinched slightly. "I mean, she's already on her way here," he added weakly.

"Of course she is," Oliver responded, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the kitchen island. "You know, Clark, you can't keep doing this to her."

"Doing what? She's my friend, Oliver. I'm letting her stay here. Not exactly a crime," Clark snapped, beginning to bristle under Oliver's accusation because, deep down, he knew the billionaire had a point.

"Right. A friend. That's what you keep saying."

"And it's true."

"I'm sure it is. But, and let me know if this is a swing and a miss on my part, but my guess is that this _friendly gesture_ may not have come completely from a buddy-buddy type place."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clark muttered, turning away from Oliver and heading to the fridge, swinging it open and making a show of searching for…well, something.

"Hmmm, so Lois' gushing about a certain superhero didn't have anything to do with it?"

"Why would it?" Clark mumbled, pushing aside a pitcher of lemonade and grabbing at a bottle of cherry cola in the back of the fridge.

"Well, her Red-Blue Blur infatuation must be seriously cutting in on Clark time."

"She does spend a lot of time talking about him," Clark muttered distractedly as he shut the refrigerator door and popped the cap off the soda.

"You mean _you_," Oliver retorted, amused.

"Huh?"

Oliver shook his head, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. "When she's talking about the Red-Blue Blur, she's talking about _you_ Clark. You _do_ get that, right?"

Clark blinked quickly, focusing his eyes on Oliver for the first time. A telltale flush began to color his face.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, of course I do," Clark managed to stumble out, before taking a healthy swig of his soda.

"Right," Oliver responded smoothly. "Well, then, there shouldn't be any problem then."

"Who said there was a problem?" Clark shot back.

"What problem?"

Both men's eyes immediately found Lois, standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked as she took in the scene before her. A smirk formed on her face as she noted the sideways glances the men shot each other.

"Oh please, the boys' club thing is just so _not_ believable with you two. You don't wanna tell me, don't tell me. However, there _are_ some bags just waiting to be brought in from my car. So…chop chop," she finished, heading over to the cookie jar that had been recently filled with Martha Kent's cookies, fresh from a CARE package to her son.

"Bags?" Oliver asked. "You're only staying for the weekend, right?"

"Lois likes to be prepared for all possibilities. The General's advice," Clark chimed in, shooting Lois a blinding smile, which earned him one from her in return.

"Very good, Smallville," she replied, biting down enthusiastically on a monstrous chocolate chip cookie.

Eyes shooting back and forth between them, the looks exchanged having not gone unnoticed, Oliver just shook his head and laughed.

"Have a good weekend, you two," he said, slapping Clark on the back and winking at Lois before he headed out the front door.

"What's with him?" Lois asked, taking the milk out of the refrigerator and pouring herself a large glass to wash down her first cookie.

"Who knows?" Clark shrugged, dearly hoping he came off as innocent as he was sure he looked. "So, how many bags are we talking here?"

"Oh don't worry Clark. You're a big, strapping farmboy. You can handle it."

One extremely large suitcase and one incredibly overstuffed duffel bag later, Clark was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching Lois unceremoniously toss her clothes from the bag, eclipsed his blue plaid bedspread.

"You know, Lois, I _did_ make some room in the drawers for you," he teased.

"I know, I'm just…organizing," she tossed back with a grin. "Besides, I told you, you didn't have to clear out of here for me. I would have been perfectly fine bunking in your mom's room."

And he knew she would have.

But truthfully, he wanted her in _his_ room. He wanted her in _his_ bed. It was as it should be, since, somewhere along the way, when she'd lived with his family, his room had become _hers_. He'd realized over the course of time,that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Oh come on, Lois," he said knowingly, "I never would've heard the end of it. You've become attached to my room, admit it."

She looked up at him at that, and for a moment Clark could swear he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. As quickly as it was there, though, it was gone, and she simply shrugged.

"I'm just thankful I was long gone while you and Lana were playing house. I can only imagine how cavity-inducing that was," she said lightly as she busied herself opening her suitcase.

And there it was.

In one remark, she'd not only successfully reinstated the distance between them, distance he'd hoped this weekend together would start to eliminate, but she'd reminded him of the mistakes he'd made with her. Not being careful enough with her heart months ago, clinging to a past that should have been long buried, leading to the events that caused the gulf that currently existed between them.

Sure, he was the one who ultimately walked away that night at the coffee shop, and the reasons he'd done it had nothing to do with any lingering feelings for Lana and everything to do with safety. Hers and his. While his feelings for Lana were no longer an issue, the scars that that emotional trainwreck of a relationship had left were deep. Add in his superhero alter ego, his otherworldly origins, and the effect his secret tended to have on the people he cared about, and well, he knew it was his own fault. And it partly served his purposes, at least that's what he told himself. It was easier not to think of what _could_ be when their friendship alone was so strained.

But he missed her, so damn much. Which led to secret phone calls and phone booths and Daily Planet rooftops.

And him inviting her to stay with him for the weekend.

His inner voice, of course, was telling him he was being ridiculous. He should just give in and go after what he wanted, instead of hiding behind the "just friends" routine.

But then he'd think of Pete. And Chloe. And Lana. And the others whose lives were never the same, and in his mind, that was because of him.

Clearing his throat, and shaking himself out of his thoughts, he watched as she began to place some of her clothes in the space he'd cleared for her.

"So, um, do you need any help?" he asked, desperate to break the silence that had settled on them.

"No, I'm good," she said, heading over to the closet and grabbing a couple of hangers.

"Yeah, okay. I'll let you finish up then," he said, attempting a smile, which she briefly matched before he turned and headed downstairs.

Sighing, he fell back onto the sofa, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

This was _not_ going as he'd planned. Okay, sure, she'd only just gotten here but the tension he could feel between them was…well, not the good kind.

Knowing Lois, and knowing that she'd probably stay up there at least another half hour if only to avoid keep her walls firmly intact, he decided he could at least be productive and use this time to go out and do a quick patrol. He headed to the stairs and yelled up, "Hey Lois, I have a few things to pick up at the store, I'll be back in a little while."

"Pick up some chocolate mocha chip ice cream while you're at it Smallville. I've got a long night of work ahead of me."

He grinned slightly, relieved to hear his nickname, a sure sign that things would be less tense once he returned. In a matter of seconds, he'd blurred into his red and blue, and rushed off into the night, heading toward Metropolis.

It was only a mere 40 minutes later that his hopeful mood had evaporated completely.

He found himself slumped in a dark corner on the rooftop of the Daily Planet, hidden well by the shadows the moon and the trademark globe helped to create.

He'd done one quick go-round of the city when he'd heard screams. Crying. Terror.

Seconds later, he'd arrived at the scene of a respectable apartment complex and was greeted with the sight of flames shooting out of a sixth story window. The firefighters on the scene were valiantly trying to put out the blaze, and he saw three of them run into the building, prepared to risk their lives to get anyone in their outside to safety.

Focusing his eyes on the building, he'd x-rayed the flame-ridden apartment and spotted a huddle of about five people, all looking to be adults, in a small room. He'd also quickly scanned the surrounding apartments, relieved that they'd been evacuated either up to a higher floor or out of the building while the firefighters worked to not only put out the fire, but try to contain it to the corner unit in which it was currently blazing.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to get all six out at once, he'd blurred in and gotten the first two to safety, then the second two.

He was about to rush in for the third time when he'd heard an explosion. Looking up, he'd seen a massive burst of flames from the window of the apartment, and his heart had dropped. Focusing his eyes once more, he saw that, thankfully, the firefighters hadn't reached the floor yet and were still safe.

But nausea had then swept through him as he noticed what looked to be a lifeless body on the floor of the apartment.

The person he was headed back in for.

Screams from one of the women he'd rescued echoed through the air. Her husband, she'd moaned, collapsing against one of her friends.

Swallowing hard, blinking back the wetness that had formed in his eyes, he rushed back in, through the smoke, hoping against hope that by some miracle he wasn't too late.

But this time, a miracle wasn't waiting for him.

He'd failed.

The sound of the man's wife crying, the devastation on her face, it'd hit him so hard, he could barely breathe.

But it was the comment, the anguish-filled words he'd heard the woman say that were on a continuous loop through his head.

_He saved us. Why didn't he save Bobby too? Why did he leave him there?_

Deep down, he knew the woman was speaking from a place of heartbreak. Rationally, he knew that.

But it didn't stop him from hearing her broken sobs. Seeing her tearstained face as they wheeled out her husband's lifeless body. And yes, he'd made himself stay until that moment, even when everyone was finally safe and the fire had been controlled.

And that's when he'd found himself at the Planet. The still functioning part of his brain knew he couldn't go back to the farm yet, not in the state he was in. He wouldn't be able to hide it from her, and he wouldn't be able to explain it

At least face to face. As Clark Kent.

So he'd come here. Sat silently for a good five miuntes before his hand found his cellphone.

_"Just…look, I know I'm no superhero and can't really know what it feels like but," she said, her voice shaking him out of his thoughts, "if and when that ever happens, and you wanna talk about it, you know where to find me."_

He punched in the code to block his number from her cell (a trick he'd gotten from Chloe because he'd found phonebooths weren't always convenient when he wanted to talk to her), and then dialed, hoping she was near her phone. Hoping she'd pick up quickly.

"Hello?"

He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, exhaling a long breath and resting his head against his drawn up knees.

"Hello, anyone there?"

"Lois? It's me," he said, somehow consciously remembering to alter his voice a bit in the midst of everything.

On the other end of the phone, he heard her sigh softly.

"I was hoping you'd call."

"You were?"

"I saw the news," she said quietly, and he immediately knew that she knew. Knew of his failure, of his inability to make the save. Part of him was disappointed, irrationally feeling like somehow he'd let her down, even though he _knew_ that wasn't true, given their past conversation.

And part of him was thankful. Relieved he didn't have to explain. Grateful she already understood.

"Are you okay?" Pause. "I guess that's kind of a silly question, huh?"

"I screwed up."

"You did the best you could."

"I should have tried to get the fire out some way first. I probably could have."

"But your first reaction was to save the people trapped inside. There's nothing wrong with that. And you don't know that if you did do things differently, that anything would have changed."

"They might have."

"Or they might have changed for the worse. You had no idea what condition those people were already in when you got there. You _had_ to act quickly."

He blinked back tears at that, swallowing a painful lump in his throat.

"You saved four people tonight," she said.

"But I didn't save one."

"And I can't imagine how that must feel, but you did the best you could. I know you did."

Her unwavering faith in him caused a tear to finally slip down his cheek.

"I…I feel guilty."

"That's natural, but it isn't your fault. You didn't start that fire."

"His name was Bobby. That's what his wife said. I've been sitting here, hearing her voice in my head over and over. And I feel guilty because I wanted it to stop. I didn't want to hear it anymore. Her pain, and her crying, and her grief over losing someone she loved."

He took a breath, hearing her steady breathing over the line, waiting for him to continue.

"I feel guilty because instead of hearing her voice…I wanted to hear yours."


	7. Chapter 7

"_I feel guilty because instead of hearing her voice…I wanted to hear yours."_

That had elicited a breathless "Oh!" from her, unable to form any other coherent response.

Which had apparently been alright with him, as he'd just kept talking, needing to let out the pressure, the feelings of guilt that had welled up inside him.

Lois had been relieved to hear her phone ring, and even moreso to hear his deep voice on the other hand. After witnessing what had happened on the news, she'd been worried about him.

She was also thankful Clark had yet to return from his errands. He seemed to be quite bristly when the subject of the Blur came up these days, though she couldn't imagine why.

A voice in the back of her mind whispered that he might be jealous of her relationship with Metropolis' resident hero. But that voice was quickly silenced by the memory of sitting alone at a coffee shop on a cold, dreary night, reading a brief text on her phone instead of enjoying a cup of coffee with her handsome partner.

No, Clark was probably just being, well, _Clark_. He'd certainly been overprotective in the past with just about any male that entered her sphere. Though how he could have an issue with Metropolis' own superhero was something she couldn't quite fathom.  
She shook her head, trying to focus on the cursor winking annoyingly at her from the still blank screen. Because, yeah, his phone call had thrown her off her game. Well, that and her continued confusion over Clark, despite her best efforts.

Staying with him for the weekend only added to said confusion.

"Get it together, Lois," she muttered to herself.

Tapping her fingers rhythmically, yet lightly, against the keys, as if somehow that would spur inspiration, she put on her best game face.

Yet still, nothing.

"Coffee!" she practically shouted, as if that was the answer to all of her ills. She jumped up so fast, she fumbled quickly to catch her laptop, before awkwardly placing it on the coffee table.

She headed into the kitchen, opening the cupboard where the coffee cups had always been – Clark wasn't one to change any of his mother's organizational habits. Not that she minded. The familiarity was extremely comforting for an army brat that had spent her life being dragged from base to base.

Like _home_.

It was a thought she pushed out of her mind quickly, refusing to allow herself to become too comfortable there this weekend, to become too comfortable with him. She was trying damn hard to get on with her life, and wishing for things, feeling things, weren't part of that plan.

She had just finished filling the old coffee pot when she heard familiar, heavy footfalls on the porch steps.

"Hey," she heard Clark say as he opened the door, her back still to him.

"Hey," she responded, "I was just about to make some coffee. Want some?"

"Sure," he said, setting down the large grocery bag he was carrying and tossing his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs. Finally she turned toward him, after getting the coffee started, and she couldn't help but chuckle at the bag.

"What?"

"You did hear me only ask for ice cream, right?"

His cheeks flushed a bit, before he slightly shrugged. "I just figured I'd better get some reinforcements. Never know when your sweet tooth will hit."

Truthfully, after the night he'd had, by the time he'd gotten to the store, he'd remembered the ice cream she'd asked for but then panicked, thinking he was supposed to get something else, so he just bought a few things he knew she loved to be on the safe side.  
It was the least he could do, he figured, after she'd managed to basically talk him off the proverbial ledge. Even if she didn't know it was _him_she'd talked to.

She rifled through the bag, snatching up the container of ice cream with a triumphant grin.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Smallville," she said, enthusiastically tearing off the lid, grabbing a spoon from a nearby drawer, and digging in. As she was downing her first heaping spoonful, she gazed into the bag, to see the other goodies he'd gotten. "Nice work on the reinforcements," she said approvingly.  
He just smiled, allowing himself to enjoy the moment of lightness between them, the return to a normalcy that had been so lacking in recent months.

The comfortable silence stretched between them, as Lois took dug in for another huge bite. When she finally looked up, she caught the smirk on his face.

"Oh," she said, with a grin. "Did you want some?"

"Far be it from me to get between you and your ice cream."

"Good answer," she said, with a slight nod before striding into the living room. He stood back for a moment, watching her settle herself on the sofa, quietly consuming her ice cream, staring at her laptop screen with one brow quirked in concentration.

Looking at her, intensely focused on her work while sort of absently munching on her snack, one would never know the emotional conversation she'd been a part of only an hour or so ago.

And part of him gave her credit for that, in that no one would ever know she was hiding a pretty big secret conversation with the city's resident superhero.

But the other part? Was curious as hell as to how she felt about it.  
He knew he shouldn't. He was pretty much pressing his luck as it was.

"So," he asked, moving toward the living room. "What are you working on?"

"Article," she mumbled, mid-swallow.

He rolled his eyes slightly at her typical response. "No kidding," he shot back, his lips ticking up into a smirk. "On what?"

"That article I told you about on the mayor's aide."

"Oh, right," he nodded. "Did you get a lot done?"

She shrugged, her eyes still on the screen. "Not really," she said, almost absently.

"Why?"

That caught her attention for some reason, and she finally looked at him. He felt himself flush slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips, "you were here all alone. Must have been pretty quiet."

"It takes more than quiet to write an article Smallville. And even so, you know noise doesn't bother me."

Which was true. She thrived on the daily hustle and bustle of the bullpen.

"Do you have all the information you need?" he continued to fish, despite his own inner voice telling him he was most definitely living a bit dangerously in doing so.

She nodded in response, her focus moving back to her computer.

"Need some help?"

"No. Look, I had an idea of where I was going and then I just …lost my train of thought."

He moved to sit next to her on the couch.

"Did something happen?"

She shrugged. "Phone call. Guess it distracted me."

He swallowed hard, feeling a slight flush in his cheeks and hoping like hell she'd keep her eyes on her computer.

And yet that didn't stop him from saying what he said next.

"Must have been an important call. Who was it?"

As soon as he said it, his lips clamped shut, as if somehow that would erase the words from the air between them altogether.  
He watched as a bit of pink colored her own cheeks as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The corner of her mouth rose slightly, hinting at a smile.

A secret one.

"Just a phone call," she said quietly, returning her focus fully to her computer.

It was a strange feeling, his heart beating fast at her obviously pleased reaction and his fist clenching tightly because she was keeping it to herself. From him.

Was it possible to feel a sense of elation and the tentacles of jealousy creeping up around him at the same time?

Apparently it was.

"So, everything's okay?" he asked. He suddenly decided if there was a picture somewhere depicting the saying "walking on thin ice", the visual would no doubt be of him in this particular moment.

She simply shrugged in response, tapping out a few words on her keyboard.

"I mean," he said, hoping like hell the desperation he was beginning to feel was not seeping into his voice. "You'd tell me if it wasn't, right?"

Suddenly with a loud sigh, she faced him fully.

"Seriously, what the hell Clark?"

"What?" he responded weakly.

"Look it's personal, alright? Leave it alone."

His lips pressed into a thin line, he sat down on the arm of the chair opposite her. He blew out a long breath.

"I just thought you might want to talk about whatever's got you distracted," he said, shrugging in the most innocent way he could muster.

"I don't," she stated simply.

He stayed silent at that, and the all too familiar awkward tension that had been between them for weeks now settled over the room. He rubbed at his neck, trying to come up with a way to cut it. Of course, the only topic on his mind right now was the events of the night, and the desire to get Lois to open up to him about it.

To say he was thankful when he heard his phone ring was an understatement. He snatched it from his pocket, noticing that Lois had barely turned an eye from her work when he got up to take the call in the kitchen.

With a quick glance at the caller ID, he answered. "What's up Chloe?"

"I just wanted to check in and see how you were. I saw the news."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Wasn't my best night."

"Well I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, but I think I'm all talked out about it."

The words were out of his mouth before he realized the implication of what he'd said. The silence that greeted him on the other end of the phone, however, was a very clear signal that the message had been received.

A silence which was followed by a heavy sigh.

"Please tell me that what I'm assuming is actually wrong."

"Chloe," he attempted to interrupt, but with little success.

"Please tell me that you didn't call Lois in the guise of your alter ego. After you told Oliver and me that you would stop."

"Chloe…."

"Because you _know_how that could potentially mess with her head."

And he did. Logically, he knew he shouldn't be doing this. Calling her, relying on her as his alter ego.

But yet, he couldn't stop.

"I guess I can take the lack of answer on your part as confirmation, then?"

"Look,…."

But Chloe cut him off before he could attempt, however weak it would have been, to explain himself.

"Clark, you could have called _me_. Or Oliver. Or your mother. Anyone but Lois."

"It's not like she can't handle it Chloe," he suddenly snapped back, starting to get a little ticked off at his friend, both from his side things and on behalf of the woman typing away on the couch in his living room.

"I _know_ that Clark. If you remember, I was the one who thought you should _tell_ her back after your little time warp adventure with the Legion ring. But _you_chose not to."

"I know," he said, a hint of glumness in his voice at having to agree with her.

"Unless," she said, the hint of hope in her voice, even through the phone, not lost on Clark. "You've changed your mind?"

He opened his mouth, ready to practically shout a negative response into the phone when, after a moment, he realized that actually no sound was coming out of his mouth.

His lips snapped shut as he attempted to work out _why_ exactly.  
It wasn't like he'd changed his mind.

Had he?

"Dare I hope I can take the deafening silence as a yes?"  
But he simply sighed in response. "Don't start Chloe."

"Guess not," she responded flippantly. "Look, I have to go."

"This subject isn't dropped, Clark," she warned. "I will not let you play ping-pong with my cousin's heart, even if your intentions _are_good."

He felt the flush of guilt creep up his neck. "Goodbye, Chloe," he said weakly. Snapping his phone shut, he glanced toward the living room.

And wondered how he would get through this night without digging himself deeper.

Somehow, however, he managed it, and when the sun streamed into the kitchen the next morning and he placed a cup of coffee in front of a still drowsy Lois – just the way she liked it of course – he felt like some of the tension had faded from the previous night.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her voice still tinged with sleep.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"For blueberry pancakes? Why yes, I am, thanks Smallville," she answered, a smirk playing on her lips. He just grinned back, willing to make as many stacks as she wanted if it meant that things were moving back towards normal between them.

"How's the article coming?" he asked, beginning to remove ingredients he needed from the refrigerator.

"I actually made some good progress on it last night, at least once I finally got myself focused," she responded, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Good," he said.

A comfortable silence settled over them for a few moments as Lois continued to sip her coffee and Clark stirred up the pancake batter. He dumped a pint of fresh blueberries into the batter, stirring carefully.

"Did you bring in the Planet?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't out there yet when I came in from the barn."

"Finishing the chores earlier than the paper delivery? Pretty impressive, Smallville," she said, and Clark smiled, the use of her nickname for him further making him feel like things were on the right track between them. Taking another shot of her coffee, she headed for the door. He heard her behind him, the door creaking open on old hinges that always sounded like home to him.

"Looks like you got a delivery."

She sat back down, a copy of the Planet in one hand and a smallish cardboard box in the other. He looked over it, brow furrowed momentarily before he recognized the address.

"Wow, that was fast," he said, almost absently as he began ladling the pancake batter onto the hot griddle.

"What is it?"

"Wedding pictures."

Silence greeted that statement, which caused him to turn and see her quirked eyebrow, which, Clark was well versed in Lois' nonverbals to know meant she was confused.

He turned back to the pancakes and began to explain.

"When I was cleaning up the barn, I found a few of those disposable cameras you put out for everyone still intact. So I sent them off to be developed."

"Why did you have them sent here?"

He shrugged. "Because I don't know what got caught on film. I'm hoping mostly the good parts but I wanted to be sure. Plus, who knows if Chloe and Jimmy are ready to see them yet. I figure they will eventually though, and when they are, they'll at least have some memories of the good things that happened that day."

Turning around to quickly grab a plate so he could stack the first batch of pancakes, he noticed the smile on her face.

"What?"

"That's really sweet, Smallville."

His own face lit up at that, as he flipped four pancakes onto the plate. He opened the oven, setting the plate in there to keep that batch warm, his grin widening as he heard, predictably, the cardboard box ripping open behind him.

A silence settled over them once more, as he ladled four more scoops of batter onto the steaming hot griddle, the only sound in the room that of the photo paper being shuffled between her fingers as she rifled through the pictures.

"They looks so happy," she said, a wistful note to her voice.  
"So I take it, then, there are some good ones in there?"

"Oh definitely. Chloe's really gonna appreciate this, Clark."

"I hope so. Even if it did end in disaster, everyone should have some happy memories of their wedding day," he replied, flipping the second stack of pancakes onto the warming tray and sliding it back into the oven. "Are there any of their first dance?"

His question was met with silence.

A few seconds past, and he finally turned towards her.

He was about to say her name. She was almost frozen, it seemed, her eyes glued to the photograph in her hand. Her brow furrowed, and he could swear there was even a hint of wetness in her eyes.

After a moment, he finally uttered the two syllables he originally intended.

"Lois?"

Hearing her name must have snapped her out of whatever reverie she was in because her eyes immediately met his, her hand slapping the photograph she had been apparently studying down on the table.

"Uh…yeah," she said, and he could swear there was the slightest of blushes tainting her cheeks. "You know what? I'm gonna grab a shower while you slave over that hot stove," she practically mumbled as she hopped up off the stool and bolted for the stairs.

Quizzical eyes followed her, confused as to why her sudden exit. He set the spatula down on the counter and walked over to the stack of photographs.

When he realized what the top one was? He sighed loudly.

Him. And her. About to kiss.

And just like that, the distance he'd thought he'd bridged felt about ten miles long.


	8. Chapter 8

She hated this feeling.

What's worse, every time she felt it, she swore it would be the last time. But inevitably, something would happen, and it would creep up again.

The feeling that her heart had been hacked by a sledgehammer.

Roughly wiping shampoo out of her eyes, Lois sighed heavily.

What was it going to take for her to get over this?

She dumped the a third palmful of shampoo into her hand. She was nothing if not an excellent procrastinator, particularly when there was an emotional landmine she didn't want to face. And if it meant her having the cleanest hair in Kansas, well, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

After she'd practically launched herself into the shower, it occurred to her that it would have been a smart move to grab the picture that had sent her back into heartache territory and take it upstairs with her.

Because now, now Clark would no doubt see it. And realize what she had been looking at. Being the smart guy he was, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for him to connect her sudden need for a hot shower with that picture.

Of course, odds were he wouldn't want to talk about it. After all, he hadn't shown up for coffee when she had suggested they do just that.

She just didn't want to see any pity in his eyes. That he didn't feel the same way, that his heart would always belong to someone else. Lois could handle a lot of things, growing up a military brat with General Sam Lane for a father had made her pretty resilient, but she was sure seeing a look like that directed at her by Clark would pretty much kill her.

And it wasn't that she resented him for that. She wasn't angry with him. More than anything, she was disappointed that she had allowed herself to fall for someone she knew wasn't available, no matter how many signs she thought she saw to the contrary.

Signs she had clearly read wrong.

Rinsing her hair once again, she grabbed at the bottle of conditioner, wondering just how long she could stretch out this shower.

* * *

The blueberry pancakes had long since been stacked on two plates. Orange juice sat in a pitcher on the counter.

And Clark Kent sat staring. Staring at a photo of a moment that was forever ingrained in his memory, yet seeing it from the outside?

He couldn't believe it was real.

If a photograph was capable of capturing the perfection of a moment, then this one had.

Hard to believe that seconds after it was taken, everything changed.

It had snuck up on him. Well, maybe that wasn't true. He had a feeling it had always been there, since the day he met Lois. But it was buried away beneath years of longing for a love story that wasn't realistic, that didn't work, and he knew that. He'd known it for a long time before he'd actually let it go. Because it wasn't Lana, persay, it was what she represented. The girl next door, the simple life on the farm, an easy relationship. Of course, none of those things actually described the true nature of his relationship with Lana. She had long ago stopped being the girl next door, both literally and figuratively. Nothing between them had been simple, but it had been familiar, even if the familiarity was steeped in pain and heartbreak. And their relationship had certainly never been easy.

Lois, though, she was a veritable tornado that had stormed her way into his life and turned it upside down. Yet beneath the rough exterior and the constant motion that was her life, she had somehow connected to him in a way that he'd really never let anyone else.

And that without ever revealing his secret to her.

An eyebrow rose as he finally heard, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, the shower turn off.

Decision time.

How would he play this?

Confronting her?

That had its advantages. Catching Lois off guard was a rarity for him it seemed, but when he did, that was when he was able to get her to open up a bit.

On the other hand, that also might send her packing. And he'd had enough of that.

But ignoring it? That seemed a recipe for them to simply continue in the tense holding pattern they'd been in for months.

Of course, an annoying little voice in his head reminded him, this particular holding pattern was strictly on him.

And he had to decide, what was he hoping to gain?

A return to the friendship he dearly missed? Something more? To build on the feelings he'd had for longer than he'd acknowledged?

To tell her the truth about him?

Since Chloe had been bringing it up, ad nauseum it seemed since his little Legion ring do-over, he had to admit, the thought got more and more attractive.

Of course, he had the benefit of seeing how perfectly she reacted. How amazing she'd been. Not that he'd expected anything less from her.

Then again, he also had the unfortunate experience of seeing her life turned upside down as a result of him going public with his identity and revealing Clark Kent to the world as the Red Blue Blur.

But he had no intention of doing that again. And yet…it was still a risk. Not because she couldn't handle it, she clearly could.

It was the fact that he'd muddied the waters incredibly with his phone calls to her. Phone calls that had involved deeply personal conversations that led to her revealing things she probably wouldn't have willingly revealed to Clark Kent.

The whirring of the hair dryer snapped him out of his ever so confused thoughts. He tossed the now cold pancakes on a cookie sheet and threw them in the oven to warm them up for them. His eye once again caught the picture on the counter.

He picked it up, opening the utensil drawer, ready to stash it away.

But then his hand stopped.

"For once in your life," he said to himself quietly, "stop running."

And with that, he put the photo back smack in the middle of the counter, his heart pounding in his chest as he heard her thumping down the stairs.

She entered the kitchen, her half dry hair thrown up in a ponytail and her familiar outfit of t-shirt and jeans, complete with laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She caught his eye for a moment, seeming to size up the situation, before glancing around the kitchen.

"I believe I was promised pancakes," she said.

"They're in the oven. Your marathon shower cooled them to practically Arctic temperatures."

She nodded, setting her bag down and heading to the coffee pot to pour herself a fresh cup. "Right."

No snappy comeback. She was definitely distracted.

Until she whirled back toward the counter. And then stopped dead, mug in midair.

"You know what?" she said, taking a quick swig of coffee, "Any chance I can get a doggie bag for those pancakes? Gotta head to the Planet, follow up on a lead."

"On a weekend?"

"There are no weekends for reporters. Add that to my list of rules. You want to get out of the basement, you'll learn that one backwards and forwards," she said, setting the steaming cup of coffee down and heading for her laptop bag.

She was heading for the door, hand out ready to pull at the knob, when Clark realized he had had enough.

"Don't you think we should talk about it?"

She froze, but didn't turn back toward him.

"About what?"

Frustration was beginning to creep up inside of him, a hand running roughly through his hair.

"About this," he said, gesturing to a photo she couldn't see, or probably more aptly, wouldn't see. "About Chloe's wedding."

Silence.

Silence that seemed to stretch out over years, but in actuality was mere moments.

He imagined that she was probably schooling her features, she was good at that, before she turned back to him. So it was of no surprise when she finally did turn, her face was completely impassive.

"What's to talk about?" she said, managing nonchalance, though Clark, at this point, knew her well enough to know better.

"Something happened…."

"Almost happened," she quickly corrected. "Don't forget the almost."

"Regardless."

"Not really. The almost saves us here, Clark."

"Care to explain?"

"Come on Smallville, haven't you ever been to a wedding?"

"Not many."

"Clearly. Okay, let me spell it out for you. Two single people. One heavily rebounding from his Dear John video ex. One who had taken advantage of the open bar. At a wedding. With a sickeningly happy couple celebrating love and happiness. Frankly, I would have been surprised if that near miss," she gestured toward the photo, "hadn't happened."

He looked at her, silent, confused. Shaking his head slightly, as if to make sense of her words, he reached down and picked up the photo.

"And that's all that was to you?" he finally asked quietly.

"Yup," she said, her eyes darting towards her bag as she began rifling through it for…something. "And obviously you too since you wasted no time once Lana waltzed into the barn."

Her mouth snapped shut, cheeks flushing a bit – a tell Clark had learned over the years.

That little bit hadn't been meant for his years.

"Which is cool," she said, taking another sip of coffee, her eyes anywhere but on him. "I mean, it's not like it was a state secret that Clark Kent's heart belonged totally to Lana Lang. We should just be thankful she showed up when she did. The awkward between us if she hadn't wouldn't have been pretty," she rambled, snatching her keys out of her pocket and turning for the door.

"And that's really what you think? That it was a circumstance of the wedding, nothing more?"

"Don't you?" she asked, hand on the doorknob.

"No."

He had to admit, he was pretty shocked to hear that word, in his voice, come out of his mouth. But then, she'd always done that, had a way of making him face things, say things he wouldn't normally say, bringing out a side of him that he usually kept well hidden.

Her hand had frozen on the doorknob, but she had yet to face him.

Taking a deep breath, he ventured further. "And neither do you."

A moment passed before she whirled around, her eyes practically shooting sparks. "Oh really? Clark Kent is telling me what I think now? So tell me, oh wise and apparently clairvoyant farmboy, how the hell would you know?"

He took a step towards her. "Because if you truly believed that, you wouldn't have bolted from the room when you saw that picture."

Her lips tightened.

"And you wouldn't have been avoiding me for weeks, ever since you got back from Star City."

"I've been busy," she huffed.

"And," he said, knowing he was broaching an even more touchy subject, if that was humanly possible, "you were the one who wanted to meet for coffee to talk about everything that happened the night you got back. If you really believed what you just said, Lois, there would have been nothing to talk about."

Eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth ticked up into her characteristic smirk. "If I recall correctly, you didn't show up. So you must have chalked it up to wine and contagious wedded bliss too. Which is what I would have told you if you showed up."

His eyebrow quirked. "But you weren't there either. Right?"

She stared at him for a second, eyes widening slightly at his words, realization washing over her. "Yeah, right. I meant it's what I would have told you had we both showed up," she replied, cheeks pinkening rapidly as she readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Whatever, it's over right? So drop it, Clark. I've got work to do," she said, a bit too sharply, before turning back toward the door.

"Lois…."

"Seriously? What part of 'I've got work to do' do we not understand?" she said, frustration evident in her voice as she whipped back around towards him.

"We're not done talking."

"Wanna bet?"

"I was there."

A simple statement. The impact of a volcano erupting.

Her eyes widened. She swallowed heavily.

"I was there," he repeated quietly. "And I know you were too."

She blinked rapidly, and Clark didn't miss the unmistakable hint of wetness she tried to hide.

"You know what? It doesn't matter, Clark. Because whether or not you were there…"

"I was across the street," he interrupted, sensing her left turn onto the Avoidance Highway. "And when I got there, I had every intention of meeting you. I did."

Her face had hardened slightly, not willing to let him see an ounce of emotion from her.

"So why didn't you?"

He smiled sadly. "Because I'm not as strong as you are. Because when I watched you, sitting there, all I could think of is what I would be losing if things went wrong for us. And not of all the amazing things that I'd be gaining if they did."

She nodded slightly, almost tersely, belying the tears that were now more obviously standing in her eyes. "Not the answer I was expecting."

"What you were expecting?"

"Something to do with a petite, gorgeous brunette."

He shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it had nothing to do with Lana. It's just not in the way you think."

The flash of hope that raced across her face, one she clearly tried to mask, raised his hopes slightly.

Hopes that were dashed in mere seconds.

"Whatever, Clark, it doesn't matter. It clearly wasn't meant to be, whatever the reason."

With that, she once again turned back toward the door. He watched her, to his eyes as if she was moving in slow motion.

And he realized, the moment that he saw her hand grasp the doorknob, that this was it.

If she walked out, if she left now and he _let_ her. It would be over.

For good.

And while that would certainly be easier and a hell of a lot less scary, with sudden clarity, he knew without a doubt that that wasn't what he wanted.

The smile that lit up his face threatened to break it in two. His heart felt like it was about to pound through his bulletproof chest.

With two long strides, he was behind her, pushing the door she'd barely begun to open closed. She turned quickly, eyes flashing.

"What the hell?" she barked, pressing herself back into the door, clearly surprised by his closeness.

When he didn't say anything, just continued to stare at her with a goofy, yet heart melting (not that her heart was melting, damn it) smile, she raised a fist and lightly knocked on his forehead. "Earth to Clark? Wanna tell me why you're trapping me in your kitchen while grinning like an idiot? Cuz I gotta tell you, I'm so not in the best of moods right now and this is doing nothing to help it."

He took a deep breath. "I don't want to be scared anymore."

Bemused, she tilted her head. "Ok."

He leaned toward her. "I made a mistake that night, Lois. That night at the coffee shop, not crossing the street."

Her mouth opened, no doubt to contradict him. He gently placed his forefinger over her lips, unsurprised to see the anger flash in her eyes that followed.

"But I'm not gonna make that same mistake again."

And with that, he pressed his lips to hers.


End file.
